


Soft You Tread above Me

by Ghostie



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Character Study, Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:13:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostie/pseuds/Ghostie





	Soft You Tread above Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redgear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redgear/gifts).



 

Sybbie would never forget her eighth birthday. No matter how many years passed, no matter how many oceans she crossed or aeroplanes she boarded, she would always remember that September afternoon like it was yesterday. If she closed her eyes she could almost smell the scent of baking bread.

It had been a simple thing, so simple she was surprised it hadn't happened sooner. She had gone to visit the kitchens 

The kitchen door suddenly swung shut behind her, though she could see no one in the hall to have pushed it.

***

It took her until a few chimes after midnight to puzzle it out. "Edward," she called out, "are you there?"

Edward shuffled out of one of the closets; the door swung shut behind him seemingly of its own accord, just as it had in the kitchen- and really, _that_ should have been a tip-off.

"Edward," she said, "other people can't see you, can they?"

"Most can't no."

She raised her eyebrow. "You're a ghost."

Wincing, he nodded once and then turned back toward the closet, shoulders hunched over like their conversation had pained him.

Sybbie, suddenly filled with a great fondness for Edward, resolved to make a friend out of him. "I'm glad that's settled then," she said, jumping up from her bed and beginning to pull toys out from under her bed. "I should very much like to have a friend who's a ghost. Would you like to play tea?"

Edward blinked at her, a puzzled expression settling over his face. "Tea?"

Nodding seriously, Sybbie began to gather Duchess Beagle and Lady Dolly and Sir Frog in a circle on the floor around her tea set. She stopped suddenly, biting her lip. "Unless you don't want to, that is?"

She watched the tension twist on Edward's face before he suddenly relaxed and favored her with a small smile. Kneeling, he moved Sir Frog out of the way so he could sit in the circle. "I'm afraid I've never played tea before; I don't know the rules. Teach me?"

Sybbie settled down and began to happily explain the rules to him. And that was that.

***

In retrospect she should have realized that they were all ghosts earlier; she had vague memories of Papa telling her about Mama, about how she had gone away and would not be coming back. Sybbie had been very puzzled; she’d spoken to Mama over a cup of cocoa not an hour before. Papa had listened indulgently as she’d explained how they had played dolls together, and then gone to look at a nest the sparrows were building in the carriage house eaves.

But then she’d mentioned how Mama had been wearing the most fabulous bloomers, blue as a sky without clouds. Mama had even said she could have them for her very own, once she got bigger! And at that Papa had gone quite pale and swallowed like he had tasted something that disagreed with him. He turned his head away quickly but Sybbie still saw the wetness on his cheeks, and she silently resolved not to talk about Mama any more.

It wasn’t as if she had very many chances to talk with Papa anyway. Papa, just like most everyone else at Downton, was very busy. Even those with free time didn’t have much to say to a small orphan with a precocious and perhaps not quite proper taste for Greek poetry and the natural sciences.

But the ghost’s were different. They never seemed to be doing much of note; they liked to sit in the parlor and gaze out the window, or wander the grounds on winter mornings when the clouds hung low and gray like an old man’s beard overhead. And they were happy to take time to speak with a bored little girl, and play with her and tell her stories.

Mama would always be first in her heart of course, but she loved each and every one of them. Lavinia, who liked to play hopscotch with her; Vera, who had taught her how to swear; William, who showed her how to cook an omelet; and Matthew, who explained to her both the intricacies of estate management and also how to play poker. And then of course there was Pamuk, who told the most fabulous Turkish fairy stories.

But of all of them, Edward was her favorite playmate. He wasn’t like the others; he wasn’t really _from_ Downton. He’d gone off and had all sorts of marvelous adventures on the Continent; Sybbie liked to imagine that he’d fought dragons and rescued maidens just like Saint George. That’s why his eyes were clouded and his wrists were so cut up, she figured.

 ***

  
The more she thought about this, the more she began to worry. "Edward," she finally asked, "Am I your favorite? That is to say, if I were to be kidnapped by a dragon would you come and rescue me?"

He laughed. “You are my favorite princess; I should rescue you from any and all dragons you encounter. Though I hardly think you’d need my help; your mother tells me you’re an absolute devil in your fencing classes.”

Sybbie allowed herself to feel a bit of pride at that. But she hadn’t endured eight years of training from Great Grandmother Violet on polite conversation for nothing; she knew there was a caveat hiding in there somewhere. “But…?”

Edward bit his lip for a moment. “But I also have a favorite prince. And this might sound odd to you, but I love him quite a lot.”

Sybbie thought about the Greek verse she had been reading earlier, the one that had made her grandfather blush and stammer something about indecency. “Like Zeus and Ganymede!”

“My dear Sybil, whatever have you been reading? But yes, I suppose you could describe it that way.”

Sybil wondered privately whether Edward was more like Zeus or Ganymede. The latter perhaps; Ganymede was supposed to be beautiful. She had always thought that Edward had the loveliest hair, and when he smiled he was almost as handsome as Papa.

He was smiling now, watching her with a soft fondness in his eyes. “So you see my dear, I have someone else to look out for. And he’s never had fencing lessons, so I suspect he’s not quite as competent at staving off demons as you are.”

She thought about this. “And does he have very many demons?” she asked.

Edward’s smile faded. “He does. He does not think well of himself, deep down, and pushes away those who would help him because he doesn’t think he deserves their kindness.”

This struck Sybbie as awfully tragic, and not a little bit stupid. “Boys are very silly, I think. I shan’t like to have anything to do with them- excepting you of course,” she added belatedly. “But truly. He has you, and you have very good taste in friends. Tell him I said so.”

Edward wasn't looking at her now, but off in the distance, somewhere she couldn't see. "He's not like you. He can't see me."

"Then give me his name and I'll tell him."

This seemed to catch him off guard. "I- no. I'm not sure he would want to hear from me. I did something rather selfish. Something rather awful."

Sybbie rolled her eyes. "I don't believe you could ever do something awful, Edward Courtenay. You're the nicest boy I know."

He did smile at that, and it was a genuine one too. "That's very nice of you to say, dear. But the answer is still no."

***

Sybbie, however, had gotten more from her mother than just a name. Papa was fond of muttering about how awfully stubborn the both of them were, though he always said it with a small smile on his lips so Sybbie had never bothered to moderate her behavior. And thus propriety be damned, she spent the next week and a half asking all the men of the house if they had ever known a boy with cloudy eyes named Edward.

She had almost given up when she got to Thomas. 

 

 

She had seen

Edward regarded her with a steady countenance.

Edward nodded slowly


End file.
